“So?” he said with a shrug, looking wholly confident that the girlfriend wasn’t a concern. “You’re not asking him out. You’re just going to reach out to him as a buddy.”
“We aren’t buddies. I’ve never been his buddy.”
“Quit being literal and quit being scared. Text him something chill like Do you know my Netflix password?”
“Why would he know my Netflix password?”
He gave his head a shake, like I was an idiot, and said, “He doesn’t. But he doesn’t know that you don’t think he might.”
“I’m sorry—how is this going to help things?”
“It’s the reconnection,” he said, sighing. “You text him what I said, and he responds that he doesn’t. Then you say Dangit—I didn’t think so but I thought it was worth a shot.”
I still didn’t see how that would help anything.
“He will—of course—give you a Sorry bro, and then you have the chance to say something funny and make him think about you.”
“Think about me how?” It was a pointless plan, an idea without merit, but still.
“That is up to you. Send him the first text,” Charlie said, “and I’ll Cyrano the rest as we go.”
“No,” I squealed, not at all interested in involving Charlie with Zack but for some reason giddily excited about something. “It’ll never work.”
“It will absolutely work for its purpose,” he said, staring out at the road in front of him.
“Which is…？”
“Which is reminding him that you’re funny and interesting.”
“Charlie—”
“Just text Hey, it’s Bay—quick question.”
“I was never Bay to him, for the record.”
“Such a shame,” he said, his brow furrowing like he didn’t understand.
It was a strange response, but even stranger was the fact that I liked it. It felt like he was defending me somehow. I said, “Is it?”
He looked away from the road to give me a pointed glance before saying, “Fine. Text It’s Bailey—quick question.”
I don’t know what got into me, but I pulled up Zack in my contacts. I was squirrely and giggling as I said to myself, “I cannot believe I’m doing this. ‘Hey, it’s Bailey. Quick question.’？”
“Send,” he said, loudly and with a half smile. “Hit send, you chickenshit.”
I took a deep breath, squealed again, then hit send. “Holy shit, I hit send.”
“Atta girl.” He laughed, which made me squeal again.
“I can’t believe I just sent that,” I said, and then conversation bubbles popped up. “Oh my God, he’s responding!”
“Breathe,” Charlie said, his eyes on the road.
“Easy for you to say,” I mumbled, staring at the phone.
Zack: What’s up?
I muttered “Holy shit” under my breath as I texted: Weird question, but do you know my Netflix password?
“I did it,” I said, looking over at Charlie. “I asked him about the password.”
“Quit acting like you just initiated nuclear war or something,” he replied with amusement in his voice. “This is no big deal.”
Zack: No idea. Am I supposed to?
“What’d he say?” Charlie asked, in response to the noise I made in my throat.
I told him, and he said, “So just say no but add something cute.”
I squinted. “I thought you were going to Cyrano this for me. ‘Add something cute’ is not freaking Cyrano!”
“Calm down, Glasses.” Charlie tilted his head, his eyes still on the road. “Just say, uh, No but we were hoping and add an emoji.”
“That’s not cute,” I said, a little disappointed.
“Your usage of the word ‘we’ will make him assume you and a mysterious someone are hanging out, and the smiley face will make it seem chill and absolutely not like you’re hitting on your ex. Trust me on this.”
I rolled my eyes but typed exactly what he said while he broke the rules and changed the radio station.
Me: No, but we were hoping. I’m somehow getting it wrong. ;）
I wondered what Zack was thinking, getting a text from me, and his face was all I could see as I waited for his response.
Which was almost immediate.
Zack: Do you want mine?
“Whaaat?” I yelled, reading it again and feeling like it had to mean something. “He asked if I want to use his!”
“Duh,” Charlie said, sounding unsurprised. “Now just go with something quick and funny that gives you the last word. Like… Haha no. I think I’ll just act out the entire third season of Breaking Bad instead. Thanks, though.”
“Okay, first of all, I’ve never watched that show. Second—”
“I know you haven’t,” he interrupted. “Anyone who knows you knows you haven’t.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, wondering why I was even taking advice from him. “So why—”
“Silly child,” he said, glancing over at me as he interrupted yet again. “That tiny joking reference tells him you’re likely with someone who does watch that show.”
“A dude,” I said, my mouth falling open at his genius. “I’m making him think I’m with a dude.”
“Bingo,” he said, looking pleased with himself as he gave me a smug smile. “Saying without saying.”
I started typing his exact words, in awe of Coach Charlie. As soon as I hit send, I said, “You are quite the manipulator, Mr. Sampson.”
“We all have our gifts, Miss Mitchell.”
A second later another message came in.
Zack: I’d pay money to see that.
“Ohmygod,” I squealed, freaking out that it worked. That we’d actually reconnected. I read the response to Charlie, begging, “Tell me what to say now, you diabolical genius.”
“Nothing,” he said, slowing as our exit approached. “Send him a smiling emoji but nothing more.”
“Won’t that be a waste of this entire conversation?”
“Hell no.” Charlie sounded deep in thought when he said, “If there’s one thing that I know, it’s the power of stringing someone along.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Bailey
When we finally pulled into Breckenridge, the town all lit up with twinkling lights in the darkness, we devised a plan. I was going to go into the condo and tell my mom that Charlie was with me, not Nekesa, and he was going to wait in the car for five minutes. Hopefully my mother could lessen the initial blow to Scott, and we could get on with the weekend.
Shit, shit, shit. How on earth was I going to tell her? It occurred to me at that moment that we’d all been idiotic teenagers to think this was a good idea. They were going to freak that I’d brought a boy, and they were going to double-freak that the boy was Charlie.
What in God’s name had I been thinking?
And I was a dick. I was a total dick for tricking my mom. Because messing with Scott’s happiness was whatever, but messing with my mom’s was something else entirely. We were a team, just she and I, and we’d never snuck around and lied to each other.